Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
 This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are 
under 18- 21 in some localities  If you are underage you must leave 
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the 
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange 
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this 
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral 
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories. 
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be 
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain, 
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

	Staci's Secret- Sam9.txt - There's more than Staci's past that
Sam never knew. No case this time. Sam digs into the real story of his
secretary/partner and discovers a secret that turns his life upside down.
M/F, M/FFF, oral, anal, BDSM



				Staci's Secret

	"Sam turned the gun on the would-be bank robber. "No one's 
pointing a rod at me," he snarled. "Decide quick. Drop the gun or join 
your girlfriend in hell."
	"The gun dropped from the greasy little man's nerveless fingers
and clattered to the floor. "You got me this time, flatfoot. You're too
smart for me," he growled and put up his hands."

	Staci looked up as the door opened and grinned at Sam.
	"Still no calls?" he asked.
	It had been weeks since Sam helped wrap up the DuPeuys murder.
Again, his stardom had failed to result in an overload of work. Overload?
It hadn't mustered a single phone call.
	Sam was far from basking in the glory. He had taken to long, four
hour, lunches and wandering the street aimlessly. He was more than bored.
	Staci protecting his nest egg seemed both a moot point and a
fortunate happenstance. They were going to have to eat into it to simply
stay afloat if the phone didn't ring soon.
	And money problems were the least of his worries. He was suddenly
a marked man. Sam figured it was the 'love nest' photo of him that ran
front page in the papers when the case wrapped up.
	He couldn't go anywhere without being recognized. People he had 
never seen before were grinning at him, asking "How's it hanging?" and
giving him the thumbs up. And then there were the women.
	You would think getting the bedroom eyes from every female you met
would be a good thing, but it was wearing thin. For one, even Sam wasn't
man enough to fuck every woman that wanted him. For another, it took the
fun out of a woman dropping her pants and begging for it.
	They didn't even have to be close enough to feel his animal
magnetism, or aura, or whatever the hell it was. They wanted to fuck
him from across the street. Sam was feeling like a sex object.
	It wasn't the way it was supposed to work for an investigator.
There had to be a certain amount of anonymity for him to do his job-
that is, if he ever got another job.
	No, Sam was not happy with the way his life was going. But it was
typical. He finally felt he had a handle on the whole thing with Staci
and the rest of his life went to shit. He was settling in nicely to 
being her bunkie with all the weird issues between them solved and now
his livelihood was down the tubes. Life stunk.
	-----
	"You can't have a new character step in out of the blue!" Staci
cursed to herself. "What next? Aunt Hildy?"

	"You say something, doll?" Sam stuck his head out of his door to
ask.
	"Nothing, nothing," Staci muttered.
	Sam was getting to be a nuisance. She empathized with what he was
going through, but he was making it hard on her too. Except where she
wanted it hard.
	Not that their sex life had dwindled. Sam had little else to do 
and she was getting it more regularly than ever. It was just that there
was less cheeky smugness on Sam's part and way too much Staci comforting
him going on in bed.
	She wished he'd start fucking all the women he complained were
coming on to him. Maybe that would get the old fire back. He hadn't 
given her a good, convincing spanking in weeks.
	She was confident things would turn around. There were high 
profile detectives that were still effective. They used their notoriety
as a tool to impress or threaten the truth out of contacts.
	Sam didn't need to loll about doing divorce work. He'd shown that
he could handle other investigations. A couple of breaks and Staci
could see them moving uptown and into the charmed circle.
	It wasn't her dream. She was not Annabella, Sam's latest ex-wife.
It was the way out she saw. Sam was far too sensitive about his new 
fame, but it was going to be harder for him to creep around with a 
camera and catch straying spouses. Perhaps the time had come to move
into other areas.
	-----
	A monkey suit. Sam was rumpled Penney's and battered fedora. He
tried to move his neck in the stupid collar with the goofy tie on the
front. Sam knew what a tie was. It hung down the front of your shirt.
This thing looked like a carnation with a couple of bites out of it.
	The job was a joke, a well-paying joke. He was the celebrity dick
in the monkey suit. Supposedly, he was guarding the hostess' jewels,
but he felt more like he was on display.
	A young woman, barely in her 20's, and wearing a strapless, 
backless, nearly topless gown smiled as she walked by and gave a whole
new meaning to celebrity dick. Her smile was aimed at Sam's face, but
her eyes never got above his belt. Sam knew how Staci felt.
	Some of the furor over Sam had died down, but that was one point 
of interest that hadn't seemed to diminish. Women hadn't lost their
fascination for staring openly at Sam's crotch. There had been nothing 
about sexual prowess in any of the newspaper reports.
	He couldn't imagine where every woman in town got the idea. He had
screwed a lot of women, but not enough to spread rumors to every women
in town.
	The hostess moved and Sam moved away from the refreshment table.
For as much as he was getting paid, he could at least look like he was
doing his job. He found a place by a pillar where he had a clean view of
the lady and her trinkets.
	It wasn't that kind of crowd. The guys by the door looked plenty
tough and well able to handle anyone else that showed up. If there was
going to be trouble, it was going to be later, in the dark. 
	There might be someone in the room lusting after a couple of
hundred thousand in ice, but they weren't going to do a smash and grab.
They would wait and do it quietly and stealthily while everyone slept.
	He was a decoration. Oh look, my jewels are so expensive I hire a
man to look at them all night long. Sam was the designated looker.
	He wasn't giving himself enough credit. While correct in the
essentials, it was also important that he was Sam Hill. That was a
double coup. Her jewels needed a guard and she went for the famous one,
first class all the way.
	The status didn't amuse Sam any more than the do-nothing job. It
sucked and he was stuck with it. But it was a long way from starving.
No one could afford to turn down the kind of money Staci was getting 
for these do-nothing personal appearances. Like it or not, he owed it 
to both of them to pull down the tall green while his fame lasted.
	But it didn't satisfy his need for problem-solving. He found
himself investigating the smallest things to keep off the shakes. He
knew what brand of mustard the hot dog vendor on the corner used. He
knew the girl in the red Escort with a shoulder-length brunette flip
wasn't happy in her marriage. At least she was having a clandestine
affair with one of the cooks at Judy's Cafe.
	He couldn't help it. He needed something to figure out.
	-----
	How much did he know about Staci anyway? The question came to him
as a joke when he was laughing at himself about his addiction to 
snooping and it lingered.
	Her Sunday school teacher was Mrs. Grobart. He didn't think she'd
ever mentioned the name of the restaurant manager that wanted to get in 
her pants when she was a teenager. She had an attitude about drunks.
	She liked being helpless and feeling forced when she was fucked.
She read detective stories like other people eat popcorn. Sam ran to 
the end of the list of things he knew about Staci quickly.
	She couldn't cook, hated to clean and only kept a neat house by
PUTTING THINGS AWAY WHEN SHE WAS THROUGH WITH THEM, a trait she was
trying, none too gently, to instill in Sam.
	And lately she was more mysterious than ever. Of course Sam had
to admit that he'd never spent as much time obsessing over her and
everything else before. His recent fame had kept him in and kept him
idle. Maybe he was just noticing for the first time.
	But his gut told him Staci was guarding a secret. Not a secret
from her past, although he was interested where her taste for being tied
up came from, but a secret present.
	Sam started to pry as a joke at first.
	Poking around in the times he was alone in their apartment hadn't
yielded much. Staci kept parts of her current life around, but not
memories. She must have a time limit. He remembered a squeaky troll he
had given her during their affair between marriages that had been in the
apartment before, but no longer.
	It made her seem more mysterious. She wasn't a cold machine. Sam
was certain her memories were around, just not where he had looked so
far. The possible hiding places at the apartment were dwindling.
	He had sense enough not to ask Staci questions, even in passing.
She'd know what he was doing. He wasn't selling her perception short.
	Then events began to happen all at once. Either that, or the 
change in his employment charged Sam with so much nervous energy that
he finally got to every possibility in his search.
	As far as the search, Staci hid her deep secrets in the least
concealed place. He found the trove in the filing cabinet against the
wall by the door to his office. Sam again questioned whether it was
Staci's desire for secrecy or his own indifference that left him with
so many questions.
	It wasn't a question he had time to ponder. Whether or not he had
been right or paranoid in sensing Staci was covering up something got 
lost in his emotional turmoil over his do-nothing jobs.
	-----
	At least the jobs had been do-nothing in the past. It made it all
the more ugly that Staci came to him with the proposal. He didn't want
to look like a pansy and he didn't want her thinking he was getting
weird love ideas about her.
	"I'm not sold on the idea as far as the business goes, but it 
isn't like you haven't done it before," Staci said. "And she's willing
to pay $2,000 for the extra time."
	It was no longer a staggering sum. Sam had been clearing upwards 
of two grand a week since he started the celebrity dick appearances.
He knew what Mrs. Newman wanted. Call it overnight security if you will,
she wanted to fuck the famous dick.
	In this case, the well-preserved widow was 52 and not too far
decayed. Sam still saw it as opening a door though which he could see
grannies on their knees giving him gum-jobs. But it was faggy to turn
down pussy- even old pussy.
	"Is it a secret between you and her that I'm supposed to fuck her,
or did she really insist that she wanted the protection?" Sam asked.
	"I'm not your fucking pimp, Sam," Staci snapped, "We both know
what she wants, but she didn't make some secret deal with me."
	"Sorry," Sam apologized, "But you know how it is to be a sex
object. I'm not my old good-natured self."
	Staci laughed.
	"Don't like the way it feels on the other side?" Staci mocked, 
"You like objectifying, but not being an object? Ohhhh, that's so 
sensitive."
	That was exactly the reaction he was afraid of. It made it seem
Staci thought he should have put it to one of his bosses before now.
His only objection was setting a precedent. That didn't mean much in
the face of Staci's attitude.
	"Well, the sensitive guy will do it, but stress that it's a 
special deal for a very special client so I don't end up being hired by
Godzilla," Sam said.
	-----
	Mrs. Newman spent an inordinate amount of time showing select
guests her home. Sam had to tail them and she took advantage of that.
She would walk past him, wink and give his dick a squeeze as she took
the guest back to the main hall.
	Sam decided it was her way of being seductive. It was easier on
him than admitting she was playing with her toy.
	Sam saw many of the same guests at the functions he worked. He 
had discovered that the 20-something girl that always stared at his 
crotch was Sissy VanDerMeer. She was at Mrs. Newman's party as well, 
still examining her favorite scenery. He wondered if the hostesses 
listed his name on the invitations and Sissy only accepted ones he 
worked.
	In a way, Sam was glad when the party broke up. He had come here
to fuck Mrs. Newman and now he could get to it. He had done his best to
see her in her best light all night, but his main relief was getting it
over.
	"Would you please check with security?" she asked, indicating a
intercom by her bed, "Tell them it's a new night."
	Newman, new-something- new night probably meant putting the stones
away. Sam guessed a new day meant she was bringing the ice out into the
light. Decoding that was probably the most fun he was going to have.
	If he smoked, he would have blown smoke at the wall where she was
standing to see if he could detect laser sensors around the wall safe.
Instead he stood with his hands in his pockets waiting for new
instructions. It might be interesting to see how she got him into bed.
	"Now I need to freshen up and get ready for bed," she said when
the jewels were locked away, "Take off your coat and tie and get
comfortable for the long night ahead."
	Sam did just what she said, except his slipped off his shoes as
well. He was pretending that he was going to stay up and watch her 
sleep. Officially, that was the gig. He wanted her to have to say out
loud what she really wanted from him.
	She came out in a flimsy white babydoll and panties to match. Sam
figured she wanted the whole seduction thing. There didn't look like a
quick way to get her out of those things. She probably wanted him to
pull her panties down with his teeth or something.
	Then he saw the way she smiled at him. She was no good at this.
She probably thought her outfit was incredibly sexy. He guessed rich
people didn't have much experience with the kind of places he dwelled.
	"I'm sure we can make you more comfortable than that," she said,
crooking a finger.
	Sam allowed her to undress him. She stripped him to his shorts
and then led him to her bed.
	"You'll be able to observe me better from here," she said as she
climbed into bed and held up the covers for him to follow.
	Okay, not classic, but efficient. She didn't tell him to "show me
what you got" or ask him to tell her she was hot. She kept the veneer
over them, however thinly it was stretched by her actions.
	She didn't say anything to blow their cover when he settled in bed
beside her. She only began to touch his face and then let her hands
trail down over his chest. This part of being a sex object Sam liked.
She smiled at him as her hands explored. Sam felt like a magnificent
specimen.
	He smiled back at her when her fingers slipped under the waistband
of his underwear. Her smile became a leer as her fingers groped out the
outline of his cock. His cock wriggled and grew under her gentle
exploration.
	She fell on him and kissed him. Sam supposed it was to represent
her being overcome by a gust of passion. To him it just meant she wanted
him to roll her over and go to work on her. That's why he got the big
bucks.
	"No," she said quietly when he tried to find out how to remove
the baby doll, "Leave that. It makes me feel so bad."
	Sam kissed her some more and fondled her breasts through the top.
She was an old woman. He was prepared for sunken, sagging breasts, but
she didn't seem prepared to show them. When her old nipples pointed hard
toward her knees, Sam knelt beside her and pulled down her panties.
	Her butt was soft and dimpled, but it had held its shape better
than her breasts. It was hardly larger than Staci's ass, albeit much
blockier and less curvy. Sam could see why she wanted to keep his
attention down there.
	Her attention was about to be focused on the same area on Sam. He
made a little show of squirming his underwear down over his protruding
cock. He left his underwear around his knees, managing to slip it off
his feet as he climbed over her thigh and between her legs.
	She was suitably impressed. She drew her knees up in what must
have been to her an obscene spread of welcome. Sam noticed incidentally
that she didn't shave and her genitalia did resemble a beaver. That
passed in a flash as he took his place to fuck her.
	It was a different perspective. He was generally the aggressor
when it got down to the nasty, but usually the woman started it and
there was a mutual attraction. This time he felt like a performer. He
was aiming to please, not fucking for his own joy.
	His feelings didn't faze Celia Newman. She seemed much pleased
when he entered her and by the time his cock was to the hairs in her
twat, she was pleased to the point of struggling for breath. He expected
some acknowledgement- that she liked it, that he filled her up- but Mrs.
Newman wasn't admitting her top half knew what her lower half was doing.
Sam fucked her cunt since Mrs. Newman obviously thought that was the 
only part that needed to be involved in sex.
	Having only one focus, Sam tried to be creative as he plunged
deep and shallow, angled and straight, slow and fast into his date. The
only difference between him and Darla Dare was their sex. That and
perhaps his timer was more obvious when it expired.
	He wondered how that timing would be until his musings were
interrupted by Celia's commotion. He didn't have to do math problems in
his head to outlast her. He fucked her hard and steady while she came
and then fell back into slow, long thrusts as she caught her breath.
	He thought about cumming as he sped up again. He didn't want to 
give her too much for her money. He didn't care what she thought and it
could put too many demands on him in the future.
	She made the only noise of the night as she came the second time. 
Sam supposed he was to believe that he had fucked her into unthinking
ecstasy. He did. He had at least fucked her so she wanted to announce to
whatever ears listened in that she was being satisfied.
	He left his load in her while she still trembled from the orgasm.
He rolled over to lay beside her and gave her a post-coital kiss on the
cheek.
	"Oh my, she sighed momentarily and rolled on her side to wrap her
hand around his cock. "Oh my, that was nice."
	It was fine, it had stopped and Celia seemed ready to let it rest
for a bit. 'That was nice' was not much of a review, but Sam was a
whore and it was the money that counted. That thought mocked him as he 
drifted. Sam realized they had slept when he was roused by a noise. It
didn't come from the bed.
	He fumbled on the bedside table and turned on the light at the 
same second he bellowed, "Who's there?"
	Celia sat up beside him. The portly man in the dark clothing 
stared at them with saucer eyes like beacons in his otherwise dark
outline.
	"I... I must have gone in the wrong room," he squeaked.
	There. Sam had done his job. The man had not expected to find a
light sleeper in the room, let alone another man. He had been foiled.
Maybe, just maybe, and Sam clung to this faint hope, Mrs. Newman had
some suspicion that one of her guests was a crook. Maybe, just maybe,
she had hired him to fuck her AND watch the safe.
	Sam sank into an even more rotten mood when he saw how little
doing his job meant. It was security's problem now. Celia didn't even
confront her guest. That wouldn't be polite.
	Of course any hasty attempts at departure might change her 
attitude and Sam was sure a check for security breaches that would 
furnish intent for some later, quiet police report were being carried 
on even as the sleepy Celia turned to him and kissed him.
	"My hero," she said.
	Her gigolo, Sam thought. His job was clear, climb on Celia and
give her bones a good mid-night rattle. It still felt just as good to
cum, he philosophized, no matter the feelings just before and
especially after.
	-----
	Staci formed an unfair opinion when Sam took out his frustration
on her rear. There was a mean edge to his treatment, but he was much 
more like the old Sam than he had been in a month.
	She even suffered his hard plunge into her asshole without comment
as she lay tied to the bed over a pile of pillows with her ass on fire.
	Her cunt thirsted for the same treatment as he rudely buggered her
for his pleasure alone, but she took it as a sign that Sam's ardor was
on the upswing and only screamed and did not scold.
	Sam's grumpy acceptance of the next job was half for show. He
still despised the idea of being a male whore, but the clients were the
VanDerMeer's. He was to "guard" the VanDerMeer children, three girls,
for which he would be paid $1,000 a girl.
	He already knew one of his clients. It didn't seem so infamous to
be at her beck and call.
	He also was devising a plan. From her memory file, he had
discovered Staci had an aunt in the ironically named (for Sam) town of
Howard. There was a Crawfordville in her past. He still considered it 
mostly a lark, but he wanted to pursue these links to her past. He 
wanted to slip off and pursue his leads like a real detective.
	"But I need a break after this," Sam said. "What say I do the
VanDerMeers and then take a week off?"

	The parents VanDerMeer had a couple of revisions to Sam's duties.
Sissy and Penny could be guarded at liberty, but they did not want him
guarding Tricia. He would be paid for all three and he could amuse
Tricia as he saw fit- as long as he didn't touch her.
	Tricia was unhappy with that verdict. Sissy and Penny seemed
sympathetic, but not fanatical about their 15-year-old sister's cause.
Sam suspected it was because it left more for them.
	The girls suffered from that greed called entitlement. They had
much more than they needed and wanted much more than they had. They
didn't feel deprived; it was for display, and Sam was a trophy.
	Sam wasn't disgusted. He would have been if he had been hired for
Mrs. VanDerMeer, but he had wanted to peel the flimsy front of her gown
off Sissy the first time he saw her.
	He felt she needed an honest assessment of her charms and a good
dose of the cock she was always staring at. She'd be better off armed 
with the facts. Then she could better estimate her attractiveness in
terms of the ratio of physical to monetary assets.
	Sam just wanted to fuck the smug smile off her face. He wanted to
see the look on her face when she was confronted with his cock in the
flesh, up close, rather than across the room in his pants.
	Penny was a bonus. She had avoided the tiny titties of the rest 
of the women in her family, or been surgically enhanced. Sam was sure 
her schoolgirl 'charm' would be amusing as he introduced her to the real
world. He was interested in her reaction to his immunity to her usual
schoolgirl ploys.
	Penny, and for that matter all of them, could feel a superiority
because he was hired help, but that didn't extend to the proper 
execution of his job. He may be hired help, but the girls hadn't hired
him. He was going to give her what he thought she needed, not what she 
wanted.
	"Little" Tricia was a wash. She was a cute kid, but two sisters
were enough. He wouldn't mind trying her on too, but there was going to
be enough to do with her sisters. In that, he agreed with Sissy and
Penny.
	"Who needs to be checked out for nasty spying devices first?" Sam
asked for volunteers.
	"You know you've wanted me from the first time you saw me," Sissy
tossed her hair, "Of course you want me."
	"The first is the quickest," Sam said. "Is that what you want? The
least?"
	He had repelled her, but now Penny didn't want "the least" either.
Sam had painted himself into a corner.
	"Then we're going to start breaking rules right from the start,"
Sam escaped his own snare.
	The girls were confused.
	"Tricia," Sam called, "Were you told not to touch me?"
	The 15-year-old slowly shook her head no.
	"And they told me I can't touch you. There we go then," Sam smiled
and put his arms out to his sides, "You start us out by touching
whatever you want."
	Those were the contrived and somewhat unreliable rules between a
lap dance and prostitution. Sam was sure no one in this house would know
that. It amused him to turn the VanDerMeer's youngest into a lap dancer. 
	Sam no longer cared what Sissy and Penny thought at that point,
but he was sure neither of them wanted to go first. Neither one of them
could make a big issue of it.
	Tricia came right over and pulled down Sam's pants. She wanted
to examine a cock in its native habitat. Her hand went in Sam's boxers
and felt around.
	"It feels real funny," she pronounced, "I can't guess what it
looks like."
	For all her professed ignorance, it didn't seem to be a shock to
her when she pulled down his shorts. She only seemed interested.
	"I've got an idea," Sam suggested, "I know a way you can get real
familiar with my friend."
	Sam sat in a plush chair, leaned back and spread his legs.
	"Now crawl in there and take it for a test drive," Sam invited.
	It was about as close to almost having fun as you can have with
your pants off. Really, it was more the situation than Tricia's 
handling that was mildly interesting.
	"See how it tastes," Sam encouraged, "At least you can learn one
thing tonight."
	That was better. It wasn't the miracle of the one-lick blow-job
but it shot the proceedings directly into the category of interesting
on its own merit.
	She was 15 and she did have his dick in her mouth. And it was his
dick in her mouth. Behind the scenery, there was real sucking going on.
It wasn't great sucking, but Sam was easy.
	"I can't do anything, honey," Sam said as  she looked up at him
from his crotch with one hand wrapped around his cock. "You have to do
everything yourself. That's the rules."
	"I want to see her take it in the ass," said Penny, "Turn around
and sit on that thing."
	"She can't do it- she's just a little girl," Sissy taunted.
	Tricia was obviously wise to the ways of her sisters.
	"I'm not doing anything that will make me a big, canyon-butt like
my two slut sisters," Tricia taunted back.
	Her mouth clamped over the end of Sam's cock with a purpose. She
was going to learn one thing tonight. She changed techniques every few
seconds as if she had learned to suck cock from a porno video.
	"It's nice to experiment, but if you want to make your boyfriend
happy, stick with the old up and down," Sam suggested.
	"But won't that make the icky stuff come out?" Tricia asked.
	"It's not messy if you catch it in your mouth," Sam said.
	Never too early to set them on the right path, Sam thought. 
Tricia's face twisted into a sour expression.
	"Don't worry, you're rich. Guys will go out with you even if they 
like other girls better," Sam said.
	That hit a nerve. Sam didn't care if it was the rich part or 
liking other girls better. Tricia went back to sucking his cock and 
persevered. She shied away when Sam responded to her rapid bobbing on 
his cock with involuntary thrusting as he approached his climax, but 
when he managed to control those lunges she kept sucking until he came.
Then, to Sam's happy surprise, she forced his cock to the back of her 
tongue and sucked the spurting jizm like a milkshake through a straw.
He'd had better, but then again he'd had worse from women older than 15.
All in all it was an auspicious start to the evening. 
	The first one out of the way, Sissy was ready to claim her rightful
place at the front of the line. She waited as Sam took his pants off his
feet.
	"Now you should search me and be very thorough," she said.
	Playtime was over. Now Sam was going to have to work for his money.
Sissy saw her opportunity and Sam knew what she wanted. He wasn't going
to be able to fuck her and she wanted him to fill the time pleasing her.
	This was bed work. Sam shooed her over and patted her down.
	"You never can be sure about stuff sewn in the linings," Sam said
as an excuse to strip her.
	Her bra was a wisp of flimsy nylon. It didn't have to be
substantial since its purpose was decoration rather than function. Her
breasts might have flared out to two inches from her chest at the nipple
line. Sam wondered what kept the top of her dresses up.
	Her butt was surprisingly bulbous given her slender torso. It
bulged sideways and back as if some malicious creator had stuck the 
wrong bottom on her top.
	The overall effect was not displeasing, if comical. It didn't make
a difference to Sam. He had a job to do. Beautiful or deformed, he was
paid to fuck them.
	He spread her out on her back and carefully placed her feet flat 
on the bed about three feet apart. Then he crawled between the arches
formed by her thighs and got to work.
	It had never been Sam's forte. His life was populated with women
that were hot for him before they dropped their pants and wanted his
cock in them immediately. If they wanted more, they were the ones doing
the sucking.
	He was willing but not enthusiastic. He wasn't very subtle, either.
His idea was to lick it a few times and then smash his face in there. It
was a form of sex, wasn't it? Why wouldn't a woman want more and quicker?
	Sissy seemed gratified by his attack at first. But feeling superior
to Sam soon lost its savor in the irritating and sometimes painful task
of putting up with his unexciting rooting between her legs.
	"I am not your dinner!" she announced scornfully, "Eat it is a
figure of speech."
	Sam took a deep breath and fought down several replies.
	The burn slowly cooled as Sam played good doggy between Sissy's
thighs. Her rebuke was enough to make him get serious about his job and
observe her reactions to his tongue. She liked light flicking swipes of
his tongue along her lips and a certain amount of solid stimulation of
her clit.
	The job became easier to swallow (so to speak) as Sam felt his
cock stir beneath him. In fact, he enjoyed it more in direct proportion
to the increasing stiffness in his cock.
	He had gotten so used to the procedure that he was still licking
when Sissy was trembling in a very common way and calling out distinctly
street-wise encouragements.
	"No, don't leave! Right there! Right on that spot," gave way to,
"Yeah- suck it! Suck my hot clitty! Make me cum! Come on! Eat my cunt!"
	As she slumped spread-legged and obscenely available after her
orgasm, Sam suddenly realized he had been hard enough to fuck her for
some time. He guessed he was lost in the moment. Obviously a hard
prick made him a better cunt-sucker.
	"I should get him now," Penny interrupted their repose. "You've
had an orgasm. It should be my turn."
	Sissy was suddenly alert again. Her head popped off the bed and
Sam couldn't help noting that when she pushed up on her elbows, her
breasts made the strangest little half circle creases on her chest like
custard cups that were upset before they set.
	"I haven't had 'my turn'," Sissy scoffed. "'My turn' is when I
get the famous dick inside me and he fucks me."
	Famous dick. That was just great. Sam was re-evaluating his desire
for this girl as she sparred with her sister.
	"Anyway," Sissy softened, "He'll need time to get hard again after
he's done, so you're not missing anything."
	"Yeah, don't fight over me, there's plenty for everybody and we've
got all night," Sam said, trying to hide the edge of sarcasm he felt.
	"Since there's so much of you," Sissy turned a cold stare on Sam
to show that she had heard the sarcasm, "You can slide up here and show
me. Show me how much of you there is."
	Yes'm, right away, Sam thought to himself, it's the only good
thing that's coming from this night that doesn't have a dollar sign 
attached to it. He crawled up the bed over Sissy and stopped with his
cock aimed at her still-gaping pussy.
	He didn't look at her until his cock had found the mark and then
locked into her gaze as he pushed inside. The reaction came when he was
about three quarters of the way in. He pushed and her eyes narrowed. He
pushed again and they went wide.
	"Careful," she gasped, "I don't need you to hurt me."
	Sam didn't feel a need to respond. His dick was doing the talking
now and Sissy had just lost her superiority. She was finding there was
a gap between intending to remain unruffled and carrying it off. Sam's
cock was in that gap and he still hadn't pushed all the way into her.
	Sissy made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a groan as Sam
finally pushed tight against her. He didn't understand the fuss. He
was not hung like a horse, whatever his fans said about him. He didn't
think of himself as a stud, but then he was more of a doer than a 
thinker when it came to fucking.
	He decided Sissy got the little ones or Sissy didn't get many
at all. When he moved, her expression convinced Sam that it was a 
matter of self control instead. Sam's cock was threatening her 
imperious air and she was afraid she'd act like a normal woman when Sam
made her cum.
	He'd already heard dirty talk. What else was there?
	There was Penny.
	"Aren't you going to yowl like a cat in heat?" Penny asked her 
sister as Sam was plowing into her. "You always do with Bradley."
	Sissy didn't answer. Sissy was concentrating very hard. At least
something was making sweat break out in beads on her forehead.
	"Oh Bradley! You are so big! Hurt me, Bradley, make it rough!"
Penny went on in a falsetto slander of her sister.
	"Shut up, Penny," Sissy said menacingly into Sam's shoulder. 
"Can't you see I'm busy."
	If he was making less money, Sam would have laughed. Yes, the
gigolo part stunk, but there was something refreshing in this scene.
He could learn a lesson from these two about taking yourself too
seriously.
	Then Sissy interrupted his train of thought with a quiver as
he hit bottom and his attention went back to his fucking. Sissy
refused to vocalize as she thrashed under Sam, but the grip of her
fingers and the clamp of her thighs relayed the message.
	It seemed like Sissy and Penny's exchange had broken a seal on
Sam's offended mood. He climbed off Sissy in better spirits than he 
had been in for weeks. So he wasn't playing Bogart and cracking cases.
He was making better money than he ever had and he was getting laid
regularly. What did he have to bitch about?
	He was so mellow he had a few suggestions for Penny on how she
might like to position herself while he did his duty waiting for the
next hard-on.
	His ulterior motive was to have his cunt-lapping move naturally
into fucking Penny on his lap in a chair. Since she was the only
VanDerMeer with tits, Sam didn't want to miss the opportunity to get
up close and personal with them.
	If Penny had any sense, she'd welcome the attention if only to
use it to one-up her sister, Sam reasoned. Not that he cared if she had
sense. This was about the good stuff. He was making lemonade with his
lemons now- or in this case titty-pops.
	Penny liked the idea very much. She liked Sam sucking on her 
nipples as she bounced in his lap and she liked all his dick- every
millimeter of it. She pushed Sam back against the back of the chair
to get those last millimeters and took advantage of her perch to push
one tit and then the other into her mouth as it suited her.
	It didn't make Sam cry either. This was the way he liked it. His
cock was getting a fine pussy-flesh massage and Penny's tits were 
keeping his mouth amused.
	Three fucks in a day was not a big deal for Sam, but three in a
row brought a different focus by the third. He was happy to let Penny 
do the work and enjoyed her cunt in a more relaxed than incited way.
He knew he wasn't going to cum like a fountain, but the enjoyment he'd
get before he came would more than make up for that.
	"Now who wants some more?" Sam asked when Penny had climbed off
to flop down by her sister on the bed.
	Tricia giggled and Sam winked at her. She might fuck him all
night if she was allowed and Sam wanted her to hold that thought for
the benefit of future men. Penny and Sissy just grunted and rolled
over. 
	Sam awoke with the hang-over of a dream that a spider was 
crawling over his balls. He felt the tickle and lifted his hand to
crush the dream spider without thinking.
	"Don't! I was just looking!" came a squeak from his groin.
	Head now clear, Sam looked down at Tricia's face staring up at
him from between his legs. Her fingers were the spider from his dream
as she was making a close-up inspection of his equipment.
	As they looked at each other, Sam's cock rose like a cobra from
a basket. It was as if his morning hard-on had overslept and was just
now waking up.
	"Did I do that?" Tricia marveled.
	"It does it by itself sometimes, but I think you helped," Sam
said.
	"Do you want me to put it in my mouth again?" Tricia asked.
	Technically he was off the clock. In the spirit of his 
instructions, he was to have nothing to do with Tricia. But he had
a hard-on- on the clock or not and Tricia had already made him cum 
in her mouth.
	His pause erased the question. Penny was up on one elbow and
looking at his cock. 
	"Beat it, squirt," she said. "Can't have you wasting that one."
	Her eyes glided up to meet Sam's and they were smoking.
	"Since it's there, why don't you fuck me this time," she said.
	Sam didn't remember that she'd been any better than Sissy or
Tricia's mouth, but he did remember having a good time fucking her.
And, like she said, he had the hard-on.
	It was very different in the morning.
	"Oh Jeeze! Wait a minute!" Penny screeched when he rolled
between her legs and pushed his cock at her.
	She pushed Sam up on his knees and then bent double to bring
her mouth to his cock. She sucked it five seconds and then fell back
on the bed.
	"I want it, but I'm not that ready," she said.
	Whatever 'that ready' was, she certainly wasn't. Wet, Sam's cock
moved inside her well enough, but from Penny's expression it was not
easy to take.
	"Come on!" Penny ordered when Sam hesitated, "Your job is to
make me like it. Now give it to me and don't be such a pussy."
	Coincidentally Sissy opened her eyes on the word 'pussy'.
	"Why do you get to fuck him?" she demanded with her first words.
	They ignored her. Sam was just miffed enough by Penny's attitude
that he was trying to make her pussy pay. Ignoring Sissy seemed to be
Penny's calling in life.
	Sam didn't think Penny ever got quite comfortable as he fucked her.
There seemed to be a whine in every noise she made as his cock pounded 
into her. But she did a good impression of an orgasm as Sam was jarring
her with deep thrusts and as he was cumming none of it mattered anyway.
	He was done. He had finished the job and now he was going to take
a break. And thanks to the awakening he had from the self-parody of the
VanDerMeer girls, he had some hope that it would actually be fun and not
just a break from his grouchy sullenness.
	-----
	"You know what I want to do with my time off? Go someplace, get
out of here and see some different sights," Sam launched into his 
spiel, "I need to clear my head out after all this non-work. I need to
take some time for me. (Sam read that on a magazine at the supermarket)
"I'd love to have you along, but I think it will be better if I have to
focus on myself and not have you as a distraction. Because you're such 
a distraction that I could hardly think of anything else if you were 
there. And I think I need to get back to basics and sort some things out..." 
	"SAM! you don't have to convince me. Go!" Staci shouted.
	Sam froze. She was frustrated, not angry. In his rush to cover his
real reason for the trip, he hadn't let her get a word in. She wasn't 
hard to convince at all.
	"Go?" Sam said.
	"I love you, Sam Hill, there, I said it. I do. That's why we have 
this wacky relationship. I like the way you are. You seem to like the
way I am. It works the way we've got it figured out," Staci said and 
then took a breath. "And lately, even though I still love you, it's 
gotten weird. You're not my wild man. You're a bitchy old woman. I think
a change of scenery will do you good. Get laid. That's an order. That's
my one condition for letting you go off by yourself. Let some woman
seduce you. Talk your way into some broad's pants. Fuck every woman
you meet. Just bring me back my old, can't walk down the street without
getting laid Sam."
	Inconceivably, Sam understood. Fucking cleared his head, but when
he fucked Staci it made him think about her and him and her and there
were only so many things to think about that. His mind was getting fat
and lazy on home fucking. Clients didn't count. He wasn't thinking 
about anything when he was fucking them.
	-----
	Crawfordville didn't remember Staci. At least that was the story
he got looking for memories of her. They all must have moved out because
nobody here knew anything about her.
	He was in a mood to stomp on this town like so much cow flop and
spread it in bits all over the landscape. He was sitting in his car 
thinking those very things when he heard a hiss.
	There was a woman tapping on his window. She motioned for him to 
open the door.
	"You're that Sam Hill, aren't you," she asked as she slid into
the passenger seat beside him. "What you want with Staci?"
	It was like being on a real case again.
	"I don't reveal my client or what they want," Sam launched into
his pitch, "But if she doesn't have anything to hide, then I won't
find out anything bad, now will I?"
	"Drive and take the first right," she instructed.
	"Lillian Clump," she introduced herself as they took the turn and
drove off down a long, dusty road, "And lay off the name. Clem Clump is
the most prosperous farmer in these parts- for what that means."
	"And Mrs. Clump is questioning the bargain she got even with the
pick of the litter," Sam saw it immediately.
	"Compared to what I came from, it's heaven," she said, "I can't 
help it now. I had to climb out of the shit before I could know there 
was more out there and I'd never got out of the shit without Clem."
	"So, you knew the Goodbodys when you were wallowing in shit?" Sam
asked.
	"Everybody knows everybody in a town this size," She said.
	She was holding back. Sam wondered what sordid tale Lillian had to
tell. His pulse picked up.
	"So, tell me about Staci," Sam pried.
	"Wait," she said, "It's only a few more miles."
	It took ten more minutes of lonely road before she told him to
turn into a farm drive. It seemed like it took almost as long to reach
buildings.
	"Park back there behind the barn," she instructed.
	"Now will you tell me why you've dragged me out in the middle of
nowhere just to answer a couple of questions?" Sam asked.
	"Didn't drag you out here to answer questions," she said, "I drug
you out here to make a deal."
	Sam didn't want to help some dissatisfied farm wife escape. She
was nice enough looking, in a bare wood kind of way, but Sam wasn't
looking for riders.
	"Look lady, big city lights are bright and all, but I'm not
looking for someone to ride shotgun," he said.
	"I don't want to go with you- well, I do, but that's not the deal,"
Lillian said. "I heard all about you. You get with the ladies left and
right and that's what I'm needing. I'll tell you what I know after you 
take me in that barn and fuck me bowlegged."
	Staci would approve. He could take care of two deals at once. They
went into the barn. It was open and airy and filled with much more
sunlight than Sam imagined. There was a pile of clean straw in what
looked like an oversized stall. 
	"Doesn't Clem do his duty?" Sam asked as they took off their 
clothes.
	"Daily, like one of his chores, and with just as much imagination,"
she complained, "He's got it down to a science. I can tell when he's
busy because he just lets down his overalls and does his business so's
he can get back to the fields."
	Clem was a stupid man. Lillian was sexy in that au natural basic
kind of way. She was unvarnished, unpainted and without the little
tricks girls learn to attract men. She was just female and there was a
scrubbed, innocent appeal about her.
	Of course she had nice firm tits and no kind of waist to go along
with her manner. She was closer to what God had planned than most the
teenagers Sam saw in the city. It should be a pleasure.
	"I just got two kind of requests," Lillian said as he looked her
over.
	Sam brought his eyes up from his inventory to meet hers.
	"I want you to cum on my face. I'm sorry if you like a woman
staying down there while you're squirting, but I want that," she said,
"And I want you to fuck me from behind."
	Sam didn't think his face registered an emotion, but Lillian
seemed duty-bound to explain.
	"Funny ain't it," she said, "You'd think a farmer would do that
kind of automatic, but Clem thinks its perverted. Won't fuck like 
animals, he says. Man on top like the Good Book says. Every damn time. 
Every damn day."
	"So you like sucking better or do you want a good long fuck?" Sam
asked.
	"I want both. That's the deal," she scowled.
	"I'm not trying to cheat you," Sam said, "I'm just figuring where
to start. Whatever we do second is going to take longer."
	Sam hoped he'd get to lay back and enjoy a long blow-job, but
Lillian decided to start there. More time to know what it felt like if
his cum dripped off her face while he fucked her, she said.
	Sam thought it might be because she was a little unsure of her
technique. Her eyes kept darting up to check with him as she tentatively
took his cock in her mouth. You might never forget how to ride a bike,
but the first ride in years can be shaky. That was the way Lillian began.
	She seemed afraid as his cock wiggled and swelled in her mouth,
like she didn't know how big it could get. Cock sucking came back to
her more, the harder his cock got.
	By the time his cock was hard, Lillian's head was sliding up and
down on his cock in good order. Sam lay back and let the straw tickle
his ass as she sucked his cock. It was great to feel how much Lillian
wanted to please him.
	Whatever her own motives, it felt like she was serving him. This
was the vacation he needed. No more dick for hire, no more abusing Staci
to ease his tension, this was making everyone's dream come true.
	"Are you going to squirt or what?" Lillian asked him, "I've been
sucking this thing for five minutes."
	Sam bit back his criticism, helpful as it might be, that she was
boring bobbing up and down, up and down. He held his ego in check and
didn't proclaim that it took half an hour to suck him off. He offered a
solution.
	"Let me help you," he said.
	Sam got up and stood in the straw, waiting for Lillian to sit up.
He took her hand and placed on his cock.
	"Use this as a stand off," he said.
	He thought that was the right term. It was either nautical or from
the farm and he figured she'd understand once he got his cock in her
face. He didn't pull on her head, simply let her feel his hands rest
there as he fucked her face.
	This was supposed to be for her, so he let her control how much
cock she had to take. She wasn't very adventurous, but her hand
effectively jerked him off as she tried to protect her throat from his
thrusts. The ambiance wasn't as pleasing, but Sam was getting excited
faster.
	"I trust you'll take care of the rest," Sam gasped as he
approached climax.
	She jerked back like the first spurt was unexpected anyway. She
jerked her hand with more planned direction. It wasn't the biggest load
he'd ever shot, but it did leave streams of jizm flowing down her face.
	She seemed pleased. She gobbled his cock back into her mouth when
the fountain stopped. She did her best to keep Sam's cock hard.
	He lay back in the straw and let her work. He was being serviced
now. His pleasure was necessary to Lillian's wants. She was doing 
everything she knew to get him hard again.
	She sucked, trying to pull the blood back. She went down to lick
his balls out of some memory. She rolled his cock between her hands.
Sam appreciated most of it.
	Finally he pulled her up to lie on top of him. He put her on her
back with his cock between the cheeks of her ass. He reached down to
grope her breasts as she moved her ass around him.
	There was no magic restoration. Sam just thought it was a better
way to spend his recovery than her frenzied attempts at instant
inflation. Her breasts were agreeably soft in his hands as he squeezed
them and felt their weight.
	Lillian seemed to develop a certain affection for having his cock
between her cheeks. Sam was thinking he did save the good part for last.
If she moved her ass like she was at the moment when he was fucking her,
it was going to be real good.
	"Why Mr. Hill, I believe you're ready," she said as he began to
rub his cock back at her.
	Sam proved not to be the only one ready after their cuddle.
Lillian sat up on Sam's cock and then fell forward onto her hands and
knees. Sam followed her up and got behind her. Her cunt was warm and
open for business.
	This was a memory she had kept alive. Her ass went up like a
receptive bitch as Sam slid his cock into her. She squeezed down on him
as he pulled back. She swayed from side to side as he fucked her faster.
	She did a lot of walking to keep her ass so trim. Sam knew it was
better than fucking the lax teenagers he had compared her to. It was
nice the way her butt kept out of the way as he shoved his cock up her
cunt. When she tilted up, he could feel her pussy lips mash as he
pressed into her.
	Lillian acted like she felt the same way. She was grunting and
moaning up a storm as he fucked her. Sam fucked her faster, slamming
into her vibrating butt. He kept fucking her faster as her cries became
shrill.
	"So fucking take it!" she growled. "You're making me cum. Take it!"
	She was cumming. Sam's frantic plunges into Lillian became slower,
stronger thrusts as she wriggled on his cock. He slammed hard into her
butt in deliberate thrusts.
	She shivered as he drove his cock into her like a spike. She came
good. Sam liked the way she froze and let him guide her through the pink
curtains of pleasure. It got him started up the hill for himself.
	He eased off on the fucking to get a running start. When he felt 
the charge would be productive, he picked up speed again. Lillian was
even more active as he fucked her.
	It was like she was making this one for him. She responded to his
every move. Sam could feel the muscles in her cunt ripple as she moved
her ass around his thrusting cock.
	It was for him. Sam stuck her deep and stopped as the cum came 
out. Lillian moved even more as she was the leader into the promised 
land this time.
	As they lay in the straw catching their breaths, a sound of a
badly missing engine approached. It coughed and died by the barn.
	"Oh shit, something's wrong with the tractor. That's Clem," 
Lillian groaned.
	They had just enough time to sit up and look at each other before
Clem Clump walked in the barn and spotted them.
	"What you doing there with Lillian?" he asked.
	They were naked in the hay and if he looked close enough there was
semen dripping off his wife fore and aft. Well, if he wanted the
alternate ending.
	"I was sent by the government to inspect your womenfolk and make
sure they're fit to breed," Sam said. "There's been a woeful drop in
quality. Seems it started about the time you were born. If it gets any
worse we're going to have to import some city fellers to bring the breed
back up to snuff."
	Clem was ignoring, or not comprehending, Sam's wit.
	"You can't fuck my wife," Clem said.
	"You silly sod-buster, I can do whatever I want out here in God's
outhouse," Sam sneered. "I can leave you hanging from a tree tied hand
and foot and talk your dimwit sheriff into believing you were out to
commit murder and got caught trying it out."
	Clem didn't look like he understood half of that. He did see the
pose and had a direct answer.
	"You wait 'till I get my shotgun," he said.
	"He's gone to get his shotgun. You better leave," Lillian said.
	"What about you?" Sam asked.
	"He's no harder for me to bamboozle than he was for you," she said,
"I think he's decided that he's allowed to shoot you. But a deal's
a deal. I'll make it quick and then you go. Her name was Cheryl then and
the folks 'round here have it in for her one way or the other. The boys
would have their tongues hanging out so far they'd trip if she was a
block away. That didn't endear her to the girls. And the boys, silly
fucks that you men are, were scared to do anything but look. She had
a couple of friends, funny-looking, brainy types, but they didn't stay
around here neither. Now you git."
	He would have liked names and last known place of residence for
the funny-looking, brainy types, but he settled for a non-perforated
hide. It wasn't far to Howard. He could get there a little after dark
and settle in before he looked for this Aunt Margerie.
	Changed her name and was ashamed of her hometown. That was 
scandalous, Sam laughed to himself.
	-----
	Aunt Margerie was simple to find. Her return address was on her
cards to Staci. Sam found the street and looked for the number. Aunt
Margerie lived in a white house in the middle of the block.
	It was just as hard for him to get her to open up. He did have to
ask. Once she knew who he was, she had as many questions about his
business as he had about Staci.
	He passed himself as boring, but Margerie had some rude comments
about what boring meant. She had a pretty rude take on what Sam spent
his time doing.
	In that atmosphere, he tried to ease her into talking about what
Staci was like- in that way. Margerie didn't plead ignorance, but she
did make Sam say what he meant.
	"I've heard Staci has some strange tastes," Sam said.
	"Oh bosh! You know how she is. She told me you were lovers a long
time ago," Margerie said.
	"Okay then," Sam said, perhaps hoping to shock her as well as spit
out his question, "What's up with her liking a spanking?"
	"Because its naughty and exciting, the same reason anybody likes
it," she said.
	"I get the naughty part," Sam said, "Naughty makes you hyper-aware
and it juices up the sex. I think that's universal."
	"Yes, and naughty girls get a spanking," Margerie said, "It's out
of her hands, not her responsibility, she doesn't have to think about it,
she can rest that brain and let someone else take over."
	"I just don't get the part about liking restraints so much," Sam
said.
	There was a much longer story about the trauma of having breasts
at age 12, but she didn't think that went to the heart of it. She 
thought it went back to when Staci was a bright, pretty, normal little
11-year-old. Sam thought it was more than a suspicion and the old woman
had been holding out until he cornered her.
	Staci had a cousin that used to hold her down and tickle her until
she wet her panties. She hated him, absolutely hated him. The tickling
was torture. When he laughed at her for wetting her pants, she cried.
	She also had a confusing tickling feeling when he made her wet her
pants and when he laughed at her. She was too young to understand it was
a sexual feeling.
	Knowing that would have saved her much worry about her mental
state when she found herself making it easy for this cousin to find her
when she knew places he would never find her. She did hate it. She had
to be crazy to keep exposing herself to that torment.
	Sam was no psychologist, but it worked for him. He had come to 
terms with his own childhood traumas in his own way. He knew he liked to
hear a woman gag on his cock because of his childhood.
	If the jealous ridicule of his classmates could make him sure no
woman would ever want him and need her to prove it beyond all reason,
then Staci could fix on a terrifying moment that first awakened her
libido.
	"You know I wouldn't have told you that, but Staci talks about you
so much that I know how she feels about you," Aunt Margerie confided.
"I think you're close enough to family that you should know about her."
	"I hope I won't shock you, but I knew everything except the why,"
Sam said. "Staci and I try to be pretty open with each other."
	"Shock me?" the old woman chuckled, "I used to do some things that
might shock you. I know I shocked myself out of a couple of small towns."
	Sam could believe it. There was a merry twinkle in her eye that
said she not only would do it, she'd be proud of the infamy.
	He still had a couple of days. He thought he'd investigate this
pizza store manager, or whatever.
	-----
	Howard held surprises for Sam. Two of them were waiting under the 
overhang of his motel, sitting a few doors down from his room.
	They were huddling together and giggling when he got out of the
rental car. They looked like they were 17.
	"Hey, mister," the sturdy brunette called out. "Is it true you're
a detective?"
	Her slighter blonde friend giggled.
	"Not today. I'm a tourist," Sam answered.
	"But usually..." she went on.
	Sam smiled and didn't answer. 
	"That old lady said you was that Sam Hill detective. So, are you?"
she kept after him.
	Sam supposed they meant Margerie. He wished she hadn't told
anybody. He wanted to keep a low profile. But he wasn't going to call
her a liar and he wasn't going to lie to their faces.
	"Yes, I'm Sam Hill, but let's keep that between us, okay," he 
asked them.
	They surrounded him in a heart beat.
	"Aren't you gonna ask us in?" the brunette asked.
	The blonde giggled.
	"What do you want in there?" Sam asked.
	"Aren't you that guy that makes women swoon just touchin' 'em,?
she asked, "Can't turn down a woman in need and are the best there is
fucking? We're in need."
	Sam was taken aback. Not only were they blatant, they thought
they knew an awful lot about him.
	"How old are you?" Sam furrowed his brow.
	"Twenty-one last week," the brunette lied.
	"Show me some I.D.," Sam challenged.
	"I told you it wouldn't work," the blonde put in.
	"I didn't think he'd care," the brunette answered. "After all, 
ain't he the one that lines 'em up and does 'em all night long?"
	Fifteen-year-old Tricia aside, this was a different part of the
country and no parents were in winking collusion here. Sam could only
imagine what they did to statutory rapists in these parts and none of
the things he imagined were good. 
	"I don't know what this is about, but it's been a long day and 
I'm tired," Sam said. "Nice to have met you ladies. Excuse me."
	They both giggled uncontrollably as he opened his door just wide
enough to slip in and closed it behind him. Thankfully, they moved off
when he shut the door.
	Lines them up and does them all night long? Where the hell did
they get that crap? And out here? In Howard? It was beginning to scare
Sam. He kept waiting for Rod Serling's voice.
	Presented. For your approval, a man so obsessed with women that
he dreams they all desire him. Dreams sometimes become nightmares in a 
place called... the Twilight Zone.
	It had bothered him at home, like a running joke at his expense.
Out in the middle of nowhere it was downright spooky. This was his first
time in the state. How could they know about him?
	Sam was convinced he'd been transported to another planet as a
guinea pig when he answered the knock on the door. There were the same
giggles, bigger women.
	"You don't know me, but my daughter Nikki was here earlier and I
want to thank you for chasing her off," the woman in front said.
	Sam could believe they were related. They had the same machine gun
delivery.
	"We brought some ice and a bottle of Scotch to say thanks. Mind if
we come in?" the last was delivered as she barged toward Sam.
	He stepped back instinctively to avoid being run over and gave her
all the opening she needed to squeeze past him into the room. Two more
slipped in like they were tied to her tail before Sam could get back
to the door.
	"Any more out there?" he asked as he looked out the door.
	"You said to keep it a secret," a mousy blonde woman said.
	"You must be Nikki's friend's mother," Sam guessed.
	"Isn't he? Isn't he just dead smart like it says?" she giggled 
and blushed furiously.
	"I'm Donna and this is Naomi and our friend is Ashley," Nikki's
mom, Donna, told Sam.
	"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"
Sam asked.
	Ashley had gone over and was sitting on one of the double beds,
bouncing up and down.
	"And he talks so nice," Naomi giggled some more.
	"Why are you here?" Sam snapped.
	"We think you're just the best detective in the world and we've
all dreamed of meeting you in person. Excuse Naomi, but she's so excited
she can hardly help peeing," Donna chattered.
	"We want some of your big city loving," Ashley said from her perch.
"We know you can't hardly do without and we want it so bad. We'll do
anything for you. We really will. Don't bother about them. They'll calm
down when they get over the shock."
	He was crazy. This did not happen on the planet where he used to
live. Sam sat on the bed and looked at each of the women in turn. 
	Donna was the leader, or at least spokeswoman. She looked like her
daughter grown old. Naomi was an interesting little blonde with a kind
of Sissy Spacek wholesome face. Ashley had long, straight light brown
hair reaching halfway down her back and was certainly the youngest.
	He couldn't tell anything about their bodies in the loose,
shapeless dresses they wore. He was considering their intent. Did they
really expect him to whip it out and give them magical orgasms by
touching them with his dick?
	"You said something about a drink?" Sam said.
	Naomi and Donna plopped down on either side of him. They faced
Ashley. Naomi had brought glasses as well as the ice. Donna was
clutching a bottle of Cutty Sark. Sam liked fruity drinks, but they
made him puke. At least with Scotch he passed out suddenly and fell
over.
	Naomi passed around the glasses and broke into the ice. Donna 
splashed Scotch into the other three glasses and poured a full four
fingers for Sam. Now he knew their plan. They were going to get him
drunk and take advantage of him.
	Sam saw no other option short of violence. Staci had told him to
fuck every woman he found. Sam sipped his drink and resigned himself to
his fate. It wasn't real anyway. He was in a nut hatch somewhere having
a hallucination.
	Sam felt like he was the hallucination when they dragged him out
of his pants. It started with Ashley pulling off her sack of a dress 
and reminding the others.
	"Come on, you're going to or not," she challenged the women on 
either side of Sam.
	They did. Donna was a full-figured gal with a stout waist and
melon-sized breasts. Naomi was a scrawny little "B" cup. Ashley was
young, built just right and had breasts that looked just a tad bigger
than Naomi's. They sat in their underwear for a minute and then Ashley
decided it was time for them to have something to look at.
	It was quiet as a church when his boxers came down with his pants
and his cock flopped out. It was the sound of reverent awe as they
stared, transfixed by his dick. It was as if the air in the room had
been changed. The giddy atmosphere had been sucked out and replaced with
heavy, sexually-charged air.
	They weren't acting like silly, nervous girls now. They were
staring at Sam as if he was lunch.
	"And it isn't even hard," Naomi said quietly.
	"I think I’m going to faint," Donna said and fell backwards on
the bed.
	"This was your idea," Ashley said to Donna, not sounding quite as 
brash herself, "You called dibs. You get to show us how it's done."
	"Now wait!" Sam snapped, "This is my dick and I'll say how it 
gets used."
	It was about time someone who wasn't giggling took charge. They
weren't very good at taking advantage of him. He was going to call the
shots from now on.
	"I got no problem with Donna going first," he said to ease the
pout on the large woman's face, "But I'm going to need a reason to take
the time and effort to fuck you all. First off, I want to see it all.
Get the rest of that stuff off. I want you all naked and I want you to
dance for me while I finish my drink."
	They were a motley sight naked. But once they got over their 
hesitation about being naked in front of each other, they surprised Sam
with their honest sexuality as they did what they considered dancing.
Sam had to admit it was more effective than he thought it would be and
that it was in fact better for showing him how much they wanted him than
the cold marketing of a professional stripper.
	They were like puppies in the pet store window, each trying to be
cuter than the other, each trying to impress him more with the need
they showed as they exhibited and touched themselves. Sam couldn't think
of them as small-town wanna-bes any more. Their lack of sophistication
did nothing to reduce the raw sexuality they displayed.
	His dick was getting hard. The absurdity of his situation seemed
to recede. It looked like it was going to happen. Sam began to think
seriously how he was going to manage the trio.
	"To do this right, you know you're going to have to touch each
other," Sam announced.
	Blank stares. They didn't protest or make faces. They were waiting
for him to tell then what to do. He was ready for some dissention, but
they didn't argue.
	"Okay, Donna, come over here," he said, "You two- on the other bed.
I want to watch you touch each other while Donna blows me."
	They were the ones that busted in his room. If his frank
expectations offended them, they could get their country asses out. None
of them reacted that way. 
	He had to stop Donna from blowing him where he sat. He wanted to
get comfortable first. He lay out on the bed and Donna lay across him
with his dick in her mouth. Naomi and Ashley weren't touching, but it was
better. They were holding each other and making out like they were both
the boy and they were in the back seat of a parked car.
	Sam began to plot the intersection of the four points on the graph
paper of his mind. If they were going to respond to command this well,
it looked like it might just be possible. He pulled Donna up by the hair.
	"How do you want me to fuck you?" he asked.
	"You mean like which hole or something?" she was confused, "You
can do whatever you want, Mr. Sam Hill. You're the expert."
	What he wanted presented a problem. He wanted her tits on her back
so he could play with them while he fucked her from behind. He settled
for putting her on her side and straddling her leg. He pushed her top leg
up with his thigh and came in sideways.
	It let him poke at interesting angles inside Donna and gave him the
chance to play with her tits. Contrary to his guess, Donna liked his
thrust to be more back to front as he slid his cock under her ass cheek
and up her flue. She wiggled her ass with most delightful results and
he fucked her that way.
	"Oh please, Mr. Hill, keep doing that! Don't stop! Keep doing it!"
she moaned desperately.
	He'd never been called "Mr. Hill" in the heat of passion before.
That made him feel like a movie star. He dropped his hand on the joining 
of Donna's hip and thigh and pulled her back so he could ram deeper. He
reached out and grabbed her melon breast.
	She came with breathy moans and a few sharp intakes of breath. Sam
felt her cunt grab at his cock as her butt shook all over. He had
considered finishing her and withdrawing to take on a second of the trio,
but he was too close.
	He jammed into her harder and shot off, most powerfully, into her.
	They wanted him to fuck them all? They could do the work to make
him want to.
	Naomi had warmed to her task. When Sam looked over, Her head was
over Ashley's chest and she was sucking the younger girl's nipples.
Ashley was showing no objection. It fueled his hope that he would fuck
one of them while they were "69ing" each other.
	"Should I help them?" Donna asked when she rolled over to watch.
	"I think they should help you," Sam said, holding his cock between
two fingers and waving the sticky flesh at her.
	Donna wasn't the only one in the room with her hearing intact.
Naomi came up from nuzzling Ashley's chest and the two moved toward Sam.
	"You want us all to suck you?" Naomi asked.
	Sam definitely felt like dinner. He was surrounded and Naomi 
pulled his ass perilously close to the edge of the bed and let his legs
rest on her shoulders. Sam had women right and left and one below.
	He had never considered being tongue-fucked in the ass while he 
was fucking a woman, but Naomi's ventures into his humid buttcrack put 
the idea in his head. Naomi dipped down to his ass from time to time as
a variation on her post at his balls. Ashley and Donna traded off 
sucking his cock and licked his cock together. Sometimes, when Donna had
his cock, Ashley would join Naomi on his balls and then Naomi would give
his asshole a good going over, leaving Sam with his cock in a mouth and
tongues on his balls and asshole.
	He was almost sorry they brought a response as quickly as they did.
The luxury of three mouths more intense than any mere sex, particularly
since he was able to experience it in the leisure of a limp prick.
	When his cock came erect, he knew it was too intense to enjoy. 
The women had set him a hard task and he couldn't waste a hard-on 
enjoying the triple-tonguing. He would fuck each of them and then they
could decide what to do with any energy he had left.
	"Next!" he said as Ashley passed his hard cock back to Donna.
	"You go ahead," Ashley said to Naomi.
	"Oh no, you're up there, You take him," Naomi said with a lilt in
her tone. 
	Sam was having his discovery fulfilled almost immediately. They
didn't move Sam or ask him to move. Ashley swung her leg over him and
mounted him like a show pony. The show was in Naomi's tongue as she
continued to lick his balls and wander lower into her asscrack as Ashley
moved up and down on his shaft.
	Sam's only part was to wiggle at the tickle of Naomi's tongue as
Ashley pursued her own pleasures on his cock. This was the way a woman
on top should be. She should fuck him while a friend both distracted his
attention and added to the pleasure of the hot cunt sliding up and down
his cock.
	Donna came over and began stroking Ashley's moving back. It didn't
seem like either woman was unfamiliar with the touch. Seeing that, Sam
decided Donna and Ashley had experience and Naomi was the talented
amateur. That made his chances of fucking them while they were fucking
each other rise considerably.
	His cock had risen to its maximum, but Ashley's excitement was
still climbing to its peak. Her ass came down with a definite finality
as she began to pant. Donna rubbed her arm and hand across Ashley's
breasts as she fucked Sam faster.
	She came magnificently, her hips making quick stuttering back 
jerks against Sam's cock as she came. Sam just let her have the pole. 
Naomi was licking the rear of his balls to duck out of the way of 
Ashley's ass and it was wonderfully delightful.
	"Get off," Sam told her, "I've got something else for you to do."
	"Donna got two cums," she said defiantly.
	"Lucky Donna. Get off," he told her and lifted his head to call
down to Naomi, "Naomi, how much would you like to eat Ashley's pussy
while she eats yours?"
	"Is that what you want me to do?" Naomi asked as her head bobbed 
up between his legs.
	Naomi's brow was wrinkled in confusion.
	"There'll be a dick involved and I will fuck you too," Sam 
promised.
	That seemed to soothe her fears. She smiled immediately. Sam
guessed the  request to do the lezzie '69' hadn't bothered her.
	"How do we do this?" Ashley began to get off his cock.
	"You on top just like you are," Sam told her.
	Sam could lean into the bed and stick his cock back into Ashley,
angling the opposite direction. As he fucked her, Naomi licked cunt,
balls, whatever came in range of her flailing tongue. Sam imagined Naomi
was getting the best head of her life from Ashley.
	Ashley was a trooper. Her ass went into overdrive almost from the
minute Sam's cock slid into her. His cock and Naomi's mouth were 
powerful temptations to forget her own job, but she sucked Naomi's pussy
like it was the only thing on her mind.
	Sam only knew she came because her cunt tightened around his cock.
She kept her mouth filled with pussy and didn't stop sucking when she
came. Sam decided to borrow the stimulation.
	"Naomi! My balls now," he called.
	That was the way it should be too. Shooting off in a nice tight
cunt while your balls are being licked.
	"That's two," he wheezed to Ashley.
	"Let me have Naomi," Donna asked.
	"Only if she's on top, because I'm going to fuck her after Ashley
sucks my dick hard agin," Sam intercepted the request to Ashley.
	"See," Sam said as Ashley let Naomi up, "You get two orgasms, you
have to suck my dick."
	"I like sucking everything," Ashley grinned and patted the bed
beside her, "I'm a very oral person."
	What she was, was psychic. They lay back watching Donna and Naomi
eat each other and she stroked his cock at first. She had sucked it 
clean of juices and it was now a poor little thing laying on his belly.
	She picked the exact moment to suck his cock into her mouth when
she could make it immediately start to grow. It was like uncoiling a
long rope to make his cock rise, but it started when his cock was sucked
between her lips.
	Sam had no reason to say no to the feeling. Ashley kept his cock
in her mouth until it was too big to fit. Then she began giving head.
She didn't demand it rise- now, hurry. She encouraged it with womb-like
visits to the depths of her mouth and vigorous licks to call it to rise.
	None of them was in a hurry.
	When Ashley had given him that marvelous extended blow-job that 
can only come between cum two and three, he turned his thoughts to Naomi.
	What a woman. She came with her friends to explore and looked like
she had gotten a long-awaited opportunity to join them in their
sister love. She wasn't awkward any more. Donna's feet were braced on
the headboard, toes curled. Naomi was giving as good as she got.
	Sam wanted to give her a little more. Naomi wasn't as much of a
trooper as Ashley.
	"Oh Christ! It feels just like they say!" Naomi lifted her head
and gasped as Sam pushed his cock into her cunt.
	Sam had become amused at all the things they said. It sounded like
Naomi was happy about it. Sam let it go at that. He had something more
important to do. He had to make Naomi cum- twice to keep it even.
	He liked them all. It was great once you got used to the idea. 
They all wanted to fuck him and were grateful that he would fuck them.
But he had taken more of a liking to Naomi. It wasn't her skinny body.
It was standing in Donna's shadow, wanting to share the woman love 
between Donna and Ashley.
	Sam liked underdogs.
	He fucked Naomi without the benefit of Donna's tongue. That stayed
flickering around the top of Naomi's cunt where it belonged. He wanted 
Naomi to be the one excited. He wanted to feel her cum on his dick.
	It didn't take much of his pressing the back wall of her cunt for 
Naomi to be launched into orgasm. It was too quick for Sam. At that rate
she would have far too many orgasms before he was ready.
	He couldn't take credit. Certainly the string of orgasms Donna had
licked from her cunt had given him a head start. Perhaps no one would
bicker if Naomi had three or four more.
	"Mr. Hill?" Naomi interrupted him and after he grunted, said, "You
know we've got to go soon. We know how you always end things. So could
you put that in my ass?"
	"You like that do you?" Sam chuckled.
	"Well... actually, I've never had anything like a dick up there,
but tonight..." she let that admission trail off.
	Sam was a rogue and a thief, a murderer and a marauder. God help
him, he was going to fuck her in the ass and he was going to do it
without further ado.
	Lubrication was for sissies. Forgive him, he wanted to shove his
cock in her virgin asshole with only the lubrication she gave him in
her cunt. He pulled his cock out of her cunt and put it on her asshole.
	She opened like the gates of Jericho when the walls came tumblin' 
down and he sank half his cock in her ass at one push.
	"You've never had a cock in this ass?" Sam was skeptical.
	"Not a cock," Naomi repeated, "But I do give it a work out with
a candle or maybe something else when I read about you."
	Well, that explained it- a candle or maybe an axe handle. Read
what? The last was lost in the sensation of sinking to the root of his 
cock in Naomi's asshole. It was still a tight ass, just accommodating.
	"Yeah- give it to her," came Ashley's voice from behind him.
	Sam felt her hands on his ass kneading his buttocks as he fucked
Naomi's ass. This was like everything else so far that night- just as it
should be.
	This time Sam's conviction may not have been the strongest in the
room. As Sam's cock pillaged her ass, Naomi was believing even harder
that having a cock in your ass while having your clit licked was the
best possible use of the lower half of her body. She didn't think she
had stopped cumming since Sam settled against her ass on his first
thrust.
	Sam had given her ass a rather piddling squirt with a great
commotion and the three were walking out the door before he remembered
Naomi's startling words- when I read about you.
	They were gone before he could ask them what that meant. Where the
hell could they read about him, particularly about his sexual prowess
and preferences? He now had a more personal investigation than some old
restaurant manger.
	-----
	"So where did you read all these things about me?" he asked
Nikki, after cornering her on the street.
	"I'm too young to know," she said waving off down the street. "Ask
the old lady."
	That was a better place to start. He went to Margerie's house and
rang the bell. He was seething. She had ratted him out to the girls and
she was holding out on him.
	"Hello, old lady, I've a few more questions to ask you," he 
snapped.
	"I'm not the Old lady. She runs the Old general store on the
corner, but I'll answer your questions if I can," she said sweetly.
	That stunned Sam for a second, but he quickly found his tongue
and asked his questions, albeit a bit more politely.
	"Where does everybody in this town read all about me?" he 
carefully asked, straining to keep his cool.
	"In your books, of course," she gave him a strange look.
	"My books?" Sam was flabbergasted.
	Margerie handed him a paperback with a brightly colored lurid
cover. "Call a Call Girl" blared the title. "By Prof. and Mrs.
Underhill" was in receding type in the corner.
	Sam looked on the first page after the title.
	"Drawn from the real case files of Sam Hill, P.I. This is a work
of fiction. Any resemblance between characters and people, living or
dead, is purely coincidental."
	He skimmed the first pages. Some guy was crying about a lost
daughter. Had a video tape of her. The dick was only interested in some
other babe on the tape. Then his slender, efficient, "C" cupped
assistant Shelly came in and he tried to hide his interest.
	He knew that one. It had a dramatic ending, snatching a triumph
from the sinking feeling that scum was going to walk free. The guy's
real name was Abernathy.
	"How many of these are there?" Sam asked.
	"Of that one?" Margerie asked, "I'm sure I don't know. Ask the New
York Times. Don't they keep track of that?"
	"How many ones like it?" Sam asked.
	"You mean different stories?" she asked. "Five. The last one is
real up to date with software rights and everything."
	Sam remembered that one too. Margerie's happy sharing once he'd
asked the right question had defused his ire at her. Now there was smoke
forming around his head as he thought of this professor and his wife.
	Who were they to cash in on his cases?
	"Didn't you know about these books?" Margerie asked. "They use
your name, so I just assumed... Anyway, it's so exciting reading about
Staci, even if they didn't get her right. But they captured you to a tee.
You're just like they say you are."
	"A few of the women in town commented the same thing, just
yesterday," Sam observed wryly.
	Sam had a new case now, a real one, for himself. It was time to
cut his vacation short and get back to the city. Last night was enough
to satisfy Staci's requirements, he was sure.
	On the way he stopped and called New York. The man he reached at 
Anchor Lights publishing was mockingly polite.
	"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't share our information about our
authors," he said in response to Sam's demand.
	"But I'm Sam Hill! They're stealing my life!" he shouted at the
prissy little bureaucrat.
	"Certainly sir, but what am I to say when all those imposters
call claiming to be you," he oozed over the phone, "I suggest you sue.
In fact, I think it would be a good idea if you found a nice, friendly
police officer right now and talked it over with him."
	Sam slammed the phone down. He was frustrated, but the guy was
right. People could be anybody on the other end of a phone line. It just
stung to be called a crackpot so officiously.
	The guy was right. He'd sue. See what he called him then. He 
wasn't poor any more. He could hire Melvin Harrison and his walnut 
paneling and leather furniture if he wanted.
	He was dead tired two hours from home. He would arrive in the 
middle of the night, early, beat and interrupting God knew what at the
apartment. He wasn't suspicions of Staci and he had no reason to begrudge
her some excitement of her own. Besides, it just would be plain rude to
walk in when she thought she had the place to herself.
	He was dropping off to sleep when something nagged at him. He woke
from a dream of screwing Staci in the ass in the morning. It jolted his
memory. Naomi has said: That's how you always end it.
	Nobody wrote down that detail in the case file. He was sure, 'case
closed- now Sam will fuck me in the ass'  didn't appear in his files.
That was between him and Staci- and now God knew how many readers.
	Staci was in on it. He hoped she was an unwitting dupe, but he
knew he was trying not to believe what he just realized. Staci wasn't a 
dupe. She was too sharp.
	He'd have thought his gut would tell him, but then he remembered 
thinking that she had a secret. He didn't even feel angry. He felt 
empty and dried up inside. Staci was the iciest-hearted bitch 
imaginable, lead him on just to get more cases from him.
	There would be no joy in confronting her.
	That shocked calm wore off as he drove. Bitch! And she had the
nerve to laugh at Anabella. Annabella was a shark, but she killed clean.
She wasn't a back-stabbing bitch slowly leeching the life out of a man
while she lay in bed next to him.
	Then all he wanted was to see her face when he told her he had 
caught on to her little game. He wanted the real woman to come out
from behind the mask she showed him. He wanted to look the demonspawn
in her real eyes.
	-----
	It was like God had smiled on him now that he had finally come 
into the light of knowledge. Staci was sitting at her desk. There was 
a thick yellow box beside her.
	"Sam! I didn't expect you back until tomorrow might," Staci jumped
when she saw him.
	She tried to nonchalantly move the box off her desk. She recoiled
in shock when Sam seized the box and held it up.
	"More blood you've drained from my veins?" he shouted dramatically.
	Staci blushed and started to stammer.
	"How could you?" Sam was suddenly maudlin and on the verge of
tears.
	His last faint hope had been dashed. He held the proof in his
hands. She really had been like a spy in his bed. He was wounded through
the heart.
	"I thought you'd think it was a joke," Staci said, "I didn't want 
you to make fun of me."
	"So you stab me in the back?" Sam's temper was shooting up again,
"Tell me, are you fucking the professor too? Are you really Mrs.
Underhill?"
	"Sam! Quit it! It's not all my fault you know," Staci scolded.
	"No- you have two friends!" Sam bellowed.
	"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Staci shouted
back.
	Sam slammed the box down in front of Staci and leaned down with
his nose an inch from her face.
	"Professor and Mrs. Underhill, perhaps?" he snarled.
	"Prof. and Mrs. Underhill," she corrected. "As in profit and the
miss is UNDER Hill. I thought it was quite clever."
	Sam's face dropped. Now he was confused.
	"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.
	"You obviously found out about the books," Staci said. "I thought 
you would when the first one came out, but then time went by..."
	"What are you telling me?" Sam asked, straightening up.
	"I was going to tell you when I signed the contract to write the
first one- Picture of a Dead Doll- but you were too drunk to know what
I was saying," Staci said.
	"So you broke my nose?" Sam asked.
	"That was the time. You might have noticed that I was upset?" 
Staci said sharply.
	"Right there," Sam pointed to his nose. "I'll always notice that
you were upset."
	"Well, it wasn't the only reason, but I was in no condition to
deal with a grabby, sloppy drunk at the time. I had too much on my mind,"
she said.
	"Wait- you're saying you wrote these books?" Sam said.
	Staci nodded.
	"So who's the professor?" Sam asked.
	"Didn't you listen? It's not professor, It's prof- as in profit.
You might as well say it's you," Staci said.	
	"What do you mean by that?" Sam asked
	"I just write them, Sam, you're the main character. They're your
cases, I have Anchor Light split the royalties and put half in each of
our accounts."
	"I'm rich?" Sam looked around, wondering why no one had told him
that.
	"They haven't sold that well," Staci said, "But the numbers are 
getting better. Right now I guess you've got about $20,000 in your
account."
	"And you didn't tell me because," he pointed to his nose, "But 
why not later?"
	"I kept meaning to, but you know, first I had to wait to see if
the first one sold and then to see if they would want another one and
then I wanted to see if that would go and then... And then it got 
easier not to tell you," Staci confessed.
	"And what is this?" Sam asked, pointing to the box.
	"Galley proofs for final corrections," Staci said. "The sixth book-
A Pair of Bad Breaks. It was the hardest to write. I had to live through
that time again and keep my perspective."
	"That the Twyler thing?" Sam asked.
	Staci nodded. Sam slapped his hand down on the box.
	"Well, Miss Author, you'll have to correct on your own time. Right
now I've got some dictation for you to take," Sam smiled.
	Staci was wary walking into his office. It seemed like a perfect
set-up for Sam to ambush her. She never saw this ambush coming.
	"The case of Cheryl Goodbody," Sam announced.
	Staci nearly dropped her pencil. It took her nine stories to have
a last name, but that wasn't the shock. Hearing her real given name was.
	Sam made her outline everything he had found and added his tale of
the women of Crawfordville and Howard.
	"By the way, Aunt Margerie says it's a shame they don't get Staci-
or Cheryl- or Shelly right," he said.
	"A girl can dream, can't she," Staci said.
	"Not if she cheats herself," Sam said. "I only like Shelly because 
I know it's you. You're a lot better than her."
	"From you I don't mind," Staci said. "I know you like my huge tits,
but I don't mind because I know you'd still be just as hot to get in my 
pants if I was flat. You're an equal opportunity letch. I don't mind you
having a bonus."
	"The bonus is you have more life than Shelly," Sam said, "You're
not a machine. You're witty, and wicked sometimes, you even sometimes
make cute blunders. That's the bonus and, speaking of bone, I think I
just solved a case. You read the books. You know what comes next."
	"Now Sam, wait," Staci stalled, "I wasn't expecting you until
tomorrow night. Can't you at least wait until we get home?"
	Sam granted her the stay. He did have to turn in the rental and
claim his own car at the airport. When he returned, she was waiting
innocently- too innocently.
	"So, you were scribbling away all through the Benny Morton thing?"
Sam asked in the car.
	"Long before that, Sam," Staci said. "That was when the first one 
finally came out. I've always written them up, it just took a long time
to find a publisher to buy them."
	"I must be a great detective if you were doing that under my nose
and I didn't notice it," Sam grimaced.
	"You were busy," Staci made the excuse for Sam. "But you did miss
things I thought sure would tip you off. I wanted to bite my tongue when
I told you the rent was paid almost half a year in advance. And I
wondered how you figured that you drive this beat-up thing that would
cost you $50 to have hauled away and my car is two years old."
	"You're magic with money- thrifty and wise, that's how I figured
it," Sam said.

	And then everything was as advertised- "SURPRISE!!"
	Sam saw Judy from the cafe, Joe the grocer, Miss Zsa-zsa and, in
the back, Darla Dare.
	"Welcome Home!" they shouted.
	He saw everyone but Darla had brought a partner. He wondered if
Judy knew the cook with her was boning the girl in the red Escort.
	"We were going to throw this party tomorrow, but you surprised us,"
Staci grinned at Sam.
	"And you have a surprise for them that none of them anticipated," 
Sam grinned back at her.
	"Come on, no," Staci shrank back when she saw his intent, "You
can't, not in front of our guests."
	"You knew what was coming when you invited them. You could have
left the party until tomorrow. I can't let you get away with a 
convenient excuse or you'll pull this every time," Sam said.
	Staci was backing away. Sam was following step for step. The rest
were watching with a mix of questioning looks and knowing smiles. Sam
backed her into the couch.
	"Now I'm going to unwrap my present!" Sam gloated as he grabbed her
and spun her around.
	"No Sam, not like this. Not in front of everybody!" Staci pleaded.
	"Don't worry, doll, I'll leave you draped- except at the site of
the operation," he said and pulled her pants down to just below her
buttocks.
	Staci's shocked gasp joined a couple from the guests. Staci looked 
around like a hunted animal and there was a stir in the others. Miss Zsa-
zsa, Judy and Darla were smiling and the others held their ground, not
sure enough to do anything.
	"Darla," Sam called out, "Throw me that tube on the bedside table,
would you?"
	Staci squawked. Sam pushed her down over the arm of the couch with 
one hand and put the other up to catch the tube of lube. There were more
shocked gasps as Sam dropped his pants and his cock waved in front of
everyone except Staci.
	"Sam! We just can't go at it like animals in front of our guests!"
Staci tried another protest.
	"Not just animals- what did you call us that night you girls were
drunk?" he asked Darla as he greased his prick.
	"Mink," Darla said.
	"Sam. Do this later. Please, don't!" Staci begged one more time.
	Her ass was wiggling like a bitch in heat. She certainly was
uncomfortable, undoubtedly embarrassed, and Sam was sure her heart felt
like a squirrel trying to gnaw its way out of the cage of her ribs.
	For Staci that meant she was hot.
	"No! Please!" Staci screeched as Sam pushed his cock into her
asshole and then dissolved in an unmistakable groan of lust,
"Ohhhhhhhhh!"
	"Like mink," Darla assessed.
	###